


watertight

by JackyM



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Martin Blackwood, M/M, Martim Week 2021 (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: “Look, it’s just. It’s not important. Forget it.”“Well now you’ve got me downright curious, Martin.” Tim had come back into the room, settling in the chair behind his own desk and leaning back in it.“I don’t want to tell you. I told you, it’s stupid.”“Oh. I see.” A wicked grin spread across Tim’s face.Martin looked at Tim knitting his eyebrows together, recognizing Tim’s expression but not what it was entailing. “What?”Tim’s grin grew wider. “You’re finally asking me out? Martin, that's not stupid.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10
Collections: Martim Week 2021





	watertight

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: First Time
> 
> Mods of Martim Week I am SO sorry for this, but I promise it's good fhghgh! ;w;
> 
> I am having so much trouble figuring out how to put this like, uh, delicately? But basically, a few weeks ago I was like, "hey what if Martin and Tim got colonic hydrotherapy, that honestly sounds canon", and then Martim Week provided me with an excuse to finally write this. >w<
> 
> To be VERY clear so that nobody gets the wrong idea: the procedure is just the context of this fic, and the procedure itself isn't described or anything! And that, genuinely, it's not a gross thing to have done or anything! It just worked out as a good idea for Day 1's prompt so I went ahead with it. But also like, maybe don't read this if humor about this sort of thing is a problem for you at all hfhh.

“Tim? Do you--do you have a second?”

About to walk about the door and leave for the day, Tim stopped, turning around to face Martin from where he was, still sitting at his desk. He’d been quiet and focused all afternoon, and Tim hadn’t heard more than an occasional shifting in his chair from him. Now, though, Martin looked...flustered. Not quite the flustered he looked when Jon was speaking to him, or when he was on his way to Jon’s office with tea in hand. Definitely flustered, though. 

“Yeah? I was just about to head out. Everything okay? You look...uh. Like you’re coming home with something.” 

Martin’s face colored a little more. It was charming, really, in a way Tim hadn’t paid much attention to until now. Mostly because he never cared to notice it when it was almost certainly in response to Jon, because that _did not_ and _would not_ concern Tim in any way, shape or form. It was a charming look for Martin, though. The color of his face accented and shaped by the acne scarring on his face. 

“Oh,” Martin looked down, at his hands, shaking his head, “right, yeah. Sorry. I...sorry. No, I’m fine. I don’t feel ill or anything, don’t worry. It’s nothing. Go ahead and go home. I won’t keep you.” 

“That’s what people say when it’s something, actually.” said Tim, closing the door and leaning against it. 

“Look, it’s just. It’s not important. Forget it.”

“Well _now_ you’ve got me downright curious, Martin.” Tim had come back into the room, settling in the chair behind his own desk and leaning back in it. 

“I don’t want to tell you. I told you, it’s stupid.”

“Oh. I see.” A wicked grin spread across Tim’s face. 

Martin looked at Tim knitting his eyebrows together, recognizing Tim’s expression but not what it was entailing. “What?”

Tim’s grin grew wider. “You’re finally asking me out? Martin, that's not stupid.”

“ _No_ \--!”

“I’m nothing short of shocked, Martin. Never thought you were the forwards type of guy. Well, maybe not _so_ forwards. I _did_ tell you the dance card was open, hoping you’d go for that. But look at you, taking the initiative and accepting, like a--”

“Tim,” Martin interrupted, crossing his arms, “I am not _asking you out_.”

“Then what is it? What’s got you all flustered? Oh, are you asking _Jon_ out and coming to Stoker for advice on asking people out? _Very_ wise, Martin. Good to ask a man with answers about this sort of thing. I worked with him in research and there’s all sorts of things I know about him if you want to get the ball rolling with him. You would not _believe_ what he got up to in university.”

“Tim, no, I--”

“Oh, or his music taste. I could go on and on about how weird his music taste is. I don’t think it’s bad, just all over the place. Not much like yours I think, don’t think he goes for that lo-fi stuff. Or stuff from video games. Then again, I always did thing lo-fi was a little weird, so maybe you’ll have that in common--”

“I’m not asking _anyone_ out, Tim,” sighed Martin, covering his face and rubbing it, “see, this is why I told you to just forget it. It’s nothing.”

“Martin, it’s something that’s got you all worked up. Don’t tell me it’s nothing."

“I just thought--I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d want to go with me. But it’s--it’s weird, so I’d. I’d get it if you didn’t want to. I was going to ask, and then you started acting like an arse about it. So forget it.”

“Alright, alright,” sighed Tim, letting his grin finally fade and casting Martin a more genuine look, “I’m sorry. What was it, then, if it wasn’t a date? Which, no offense, I would’ve assumed it was anyways, based on your wording.”

“It’s--no, Tim, it’s weird. It’s nothing.” Martin looked down, avoiding Tim’s gaze. 

“I...listen. I shouldn’t have been rattling you like that."

Martin shook his head and reached for his coat, not looking at Tim. “I told you, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” 

Tim sighed, beginning to lose his patience. Martin could be so stubborn once he’d decided something was pointless, and Tim didn’t have all evening to go back and forth about it. It was definitely a gamble trying to convince Martin otherwise, but Tim made an attempt nonetheless, because he wasn’t heartless. And because, well, Martin was right, he had sort of been an arse about it. “Can’t be that weird if it’s for two people.”

“...Can’t it?”

“I don’t know, probably? They don’t make things for two people unless two people can enjoy it. Look, I was about to leave. If you really want to tell me, then tell me. Probably not the strangest thing I’ve heard of for two people, and you _know_ that’s saying something. I told you about those fish that try eating your feet or something. Did you know that's some people's idea of a fun date?"

“I--no, I didn’t. And. Well, it’s--it’s, um.” Martin sighed and straightened himself in his chair and gave Tim a nervous look. “I...s-so, er, a week back, when we got kebabs out in Guildford--”

“Uh,” Tim huffed a small laugh, “alright, Martin, you got me, I have no clue where this one’s going. Yeah? I had it coming out of both ends for days, and probably lost a couple stone by the time I was finally feeling better. Hey--don’t ever let anyone tell you it’s impossible to shit without pissing.”

“God,” said Martin, laughing a little himself, but loosening up. “Tim. Gross.”

“It’s not gross, everyone does it. You, me--”

“Please don’t name anyone else.”

“The sooner you realize everyone does it, the people you find _attractive_ included--”

“Tim!”

“What! Listen, it makes everyone a lot less intimidating.”

“...I guess?”

“I’m just saying, _everyone does it_.”

“I--okay, okay,” sighed Martin, fiddling with one of the sleeves of his jumper, “well. Um. I. On that note. I, well. I’ve--I’ve always wanted to do colonic irrigation? I...I heard about it once on a podcast, and thought, well, I thought it sort of sounded like something that’d be good for me? So, I, ah, well, I just saved up a little bit for a while. Wasn’t really super invested in it, it was just in the back of my mind for a while, but, ah, then I saw a coupon for a discount on a couple’s irrigation, and--”

“Sorry, couple’s _what_?” The smile on Tim’s face was just as horrible as it’d been before, and Martin tried his best to scowl at Tim.

Unfortunately, Martin’s scowling only made Tim’s grin spread across his face even more, and Martin gave up on any kind of facial reprimanding and decided to just explain himself. “N-no, it’s just--it’s the procedure for two people at a better rate, that’s all! I don’t think it’s anything other than that. And I just, well. I thought since we both had to deal with the fallout of the kebabs, maybe you’d--you could get behind it? Sorry, I...I know it’s a weird thing to ask. I get it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s--well, it is weird, yeah.” Tim brought his arms to his knees and rested his chin on his hands. “But it’s not like, bad, either, to ask.”

“It...isn’t?”

“Don’t think so. Lots of people do it. I mean, Sasha did it once, actually.”

“I--should I ask her, then?” 

“Nah, I don’t think she’d be too keen on it. She didn’t want to do it again, she was just wondering what it was like. Martin, if you really want an irrigation buddy, I’ll go with you. I wasn’t ever really sure what to make of it, but I’m not afraid of trying it out. Worst comes to worst I have a mildly uncomfortable experience and some clean intestines, and that really sounds more like a benefit than anything else.”

“You’ll--” Martin's face brightened a little, and he cracked a small smile, “you’ll go? Really? I mean it, if you don’t want to, I’ll understand--”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go. Stop hiding how thrilled you are I’m going, Martin. It’s written all over your face. I’m just doing what a friend would do. Maybe more, depending on how things go. When was this romantic excursion going to happen?”

“It’s not romantic.”

“Couple’s irrigation. If you're lucky, you’ll fall in love with me by the time it’s over.”

“Shut up,” groaned Martin, smiling, “and this Saturday afternoon, at one. Is that...okay? That’s the best opening they had for the weekend, but I can, I can ask if there’s other ones available later--”

“Saturday afternoon at one,” Tim looked up, thinking for a moment, then looking back at Martin, “yeah, that’s fine. Gym’s not doing anything that day. Just have to get up early to take my run. Early for a weekend, anyways.”

“Oh, if you need to get up early--”

Tim rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. “Hush. It’s fine, Martin. Really. I’m not Jon, no need to fuss over me and my sleeping habits. I’m normal.”

“I don’t fuss over his sleeping habits!”

“Mmhmm. Is the place closer to yours or mine?”

“Or. Um. Closer to mine, I think. If you want we can meet at a halfway point, or, um, or I guess you could stop at mine and we could go from there. Do you, um. Do you remember my address?”

“Think so.”

“Right-o. Um.” Martin began to get up, shrugging his coat on and then looking at Tim. He lowered his eyebrows and smiled, softly. “Hey. Um. Thanks. Really.”

Tim stood up, zipping his coat back on and flashing a grin at Martin. He felt a little flicker of pride when he noticed how it made Martin flush, just a little. “No problem, irrigation buddy.”

Martin’s flush went away as soon as he huffed an exasperated sigh in Tim’s direction and started heading out the door. “Don’t call me that.”

“Pumping pal. Ooh, that one sounds nasty.”

“Stop.”

“Colon companion.”

“ _Tim_.”

“Bowel buddy--”

A groan from Martin.

“No, see, this is part of the agreement. A part I totally just made up for the sake of bothering you, but you and I will both follow anyways. I go with you to do this, you deal with all the ways to describe what we are now that we’re doing this.”

Martin groaned again, but Tim could hear the smile on Martin’s face. 

* * *

A loud rapping at the door startled Martin awake. Inhaling sharply, Martin balefully extricated himself from his blankets and reached for his phone. This time of the year his flat was always freezing, and getting out of bed was always a struggle. He blearily looked at the screen, reaching aimlessly for his glasses and sliding them onto his face. Quarter past ten. He’d set an alarm for eleven, in the event that he’d sleep in a little longer than he would’ve liked. And he probably would’ve needed it, if whoever was at the door wasn’t there. 

The knocking came again, louder this time, and Martin winced and sighed before sliding out of bed and making his way over to the front door. He was always grateful for knocking, but he wasn’t particularly fond of loud, insistent knocking, either. 

“Martin!” Tim’s voice from the other side of the door both relieved and irritated Martin. “Hi, Martin! Strangest thing happened this morning. I got up at six and couldn’t fall back asleep. Maybe I was just that excited about today. So I took my run early this morning and became incredibly bored afterwards. Guess I could’ve gone to do some lifting today but one of my arms’ been sore all week and I don’t want to pull it. Thought I’d come over to yours in the meantime.”

Martin struggled to unlock the door on account of just having woken up, and pulled it open with a yawn. Rubbing one of his eyes, he looked at Tim sleepily, eyes stinging when he saw the bright color of the shirt Tim was wearing. “Huh?”

“I was getting bored waiting, so I came over a little early. I--I mean, I was coming over anyways. Christ, sorry, maybe I should've given you a warning. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah? I had an alarm for eleven.” said Martin, holding the door open for Tim. It wasn’t the first time that Tim had been to his; they’d met at each others’ before stakeouts a few times before. Tim was right, he should have given him some kind of notice before coming over before half past eleven, when he’d agreed to come over. Interruptions in his projected routine for the morning hurt, in a disruptive kind of way. But Martin couldn’t deny the company felt nice, even if it shook up his routine a bit. At least, the company of Tim felt nice. He could be irritating, on purpose, to be sure, but he knew when to back off and would leave Martin alone if Martin really needed it. And Martin appreciated that. Finding someone to just be quiet with was comforting. 

There wasn’t much space for both of them in the hallway, and Tim slid down it before stopping to lean against the entry to Martin’s small kitchen. 

“Martin.”

Martin blinked, still waking up and trying to process Tim suddenly being in his flat at the same time. “Hmm?”

“You haven’t asked me if I want tea, and I _know_ how it’s the first thing you do when you have someone over.”

“And I won’t,” said Martin, smiling a little as he headed over to the kitchen, “because I didn’t invite you over. I only offer tea to people I invited over. Or for people who are here for extenuating circumstances.”

“This is an extenuating circumstance. I was really bored.”

“Nope. Doesn’t count.”

“Boo. You’re terrible, and I am deeply hurt by you, Martin Blackwood.” Tim poked his head into the kitchen and gave Martin a little smile, earning him a weary smile back. Despite himself, Martin reached for two mugs in the cupboard. He was grateful that Tim was coming, really, and wanted to make that as clear as he could. Martin heard some shifting around from Tim as he got the tea ready, and attributed that to Tim finding his way to the sofa. It was quiet for a moment, and Martin relaxed a bit. 

Admittedly, he’d been a little nervous since he’d asked. Martin had been almost certain in asking what Tim’s answer would be, but something about asking Tim to do something with him for reasons not related to work made him feel almost nauseous. Asking Tim to take time out of his day for him and being an interruption. It was the last thing he wanted to do. 

He was lucky for Tim’s directness on the subject. He’d be worse off if Tim wasn’t the way he was. Tim had given him a “shush, stop trying to talk me out of doing friend things with my friend”, and that was the end of it. And truly, that had been enough to quell most of the anxiety Martin had on the matter.

Tim’s sudden gasp snapped Martin out of his thinking and made him jump, flinching and catching himself on the counter. 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Tim!”

“Sorry!”

“Mind telling me what that was about?”

“I was thinking,” said Tim from the sitting room, across the narrow hall from the kitchen, “let’s save the receipt from today.”

“Um. Why?”

“So we can have the Magnus Institute pay for it.”

“I...sorry, why are we doing that?”

“Well. We’re doing this because of what happened when we were doing work for them.”

“I...I mean, not...not really?”

“Shh. They don’t need to know that. We can just say we were forced to take care of a work related illness through a watery arse blasting.”

“Do you have to say it like that? You could’ve used so many other words to describe it, and you had to use those?”

“I’m not a poet, Martin, I don’t have access to words that prettily describe it. But listen, if they’ll pay for cronuts, they’ll pay for this.”

“They’ve...paid for cronuts?”

“By the dozens. One of the sergeants at the precinct loves them.”

“Aren’t you worried about doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Asking the institute to pay for it. Won’t Elias find out?”

Martin came into the room with Tim, handing a mug of tea to Tim, who looked up at him with a self-assured expression. Martin knitted his eyebrows together and tilted his head. He wasn’t entirely sure how serious Tim was being. Partially because Tim was a self-described prankster, and partially because Martin was, in general, not good at telling when people were being serious or not. 

Taking the mug, Tim smiled up at Martin. “We’ve got an excuse if he does. It’s pretty airtight. Watertight, even. Oh, that was good. Up top.” Tim grinned and raised his right hand up, and Martin rolled his eyes and smiled a little, intent on leaving Tim hanging. Tim looked at Martin and gave an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, Martin, that was good.”

Martin sat next to him on the sofa and began settling into his own tea. “It was okay.”

“You make puns all the time. You’re just jealous.”

“I don’t make _gross_ puns.”

“Mm-hmm. Jealous.”

Martin shook his head and smiled, but felt himself finally start to wake up. Tim had a bright floral shirt on, one that hurt a little to look at. Bright colors were always hard. It looked nice on him though, purple flower patterns throughout what looked like--

Martin gave a little laugh. “Did you wear this shirt on purpose?”

“Hm?”

“This shirt. With the ocean on it.”

“Ah,” Tim smiled at Martin, fingers dancing around the mug, “I was hoping you’d notice. Yes, absolutely.”

“Once I finish this cuppa,” said Martin, checking the time on his phone, “I think I’m going to get ready. So you’ll excuse me for leaving for a moment to put on something that doesn’t make us both look like we’re huge enthusiasts for this sort of thing.”

“I thought you wanted to do this!”

“I did, but I also don’t want to look like this is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“It might be! You don’t know. You could walk out of there a changed man. That’s why you need to dress like it will.”

Martin scoffed. “I’ll take my chances, then.”

* * *

The way there hadn’t been too uneventful. Martin didn’t take much time to get ready, so they had some time before they really needed to go. Really, Tim probably could have found something to do once he got home from his run, catch up on some of his shows, maybe, but he really did enjoy spending time with Martin. He was nice to listen to, who didn’t give himself enough credit for being pretty funny when he loosened up a bit. Cute, too, and passionate, really, when he got caught up in talking about something and just let himself talk without apologizing. He didn’t see it nearly enough at work. He would’ve told Martin that, too, told him how good he looked without worry plastered all over his face, but Martin was notoriously bad at taking compliments. So he just sighed and listened to Martin talk about six-eyed sand spiders and show him videos of them burying themselves in the sand. 

They waited about half an hour after Martin got ready and then made their way to the station, realizing they probably should have left a little earlier than they did, and had a chat about Pokemon on the tube. Jon had made it clear on Friday he didn’t actually know what any Pokemon besides Pikachu were, and seemed fairly certain all of the first three starters were called Charmander. This led to a very in-depth discussion on why the other groups of starters decided far more recognition. Chikorita, especially, because it was, according to Martin, “a cat faced potato leaf and perfect in every way”. The conversation continued as the train stopped and they made their way out of the station, Tim nudged Martin to get his attention. Martin startled a bit, and Tim kept the conversation going. 

“Not Mudkip?” 

“Hmm?”

“Isn’t Mudkip a good starter?”

“I was just about to mention it, I really like it! Definitely my favorite Water starter.”

“Yeah, lots of people do. It’s a whole thing.”

“I mean yes, it is cute, I’m just fond of Grass types. It’s my second favorite type.”

“No prizes for your first one, I’m guessing.” Tim winked, not failing to notice Martin’s face coloring. 

Martin gave a little smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Pretty hard to know you and listen to you talk about spiders and not think that maybe you’d be partial to Bug types.”

“Fair enough. You?”

“Hm?”

“Your favorite type!”

“Uhh...hm. Fighting, I think. I like all of them, except the ones that look like humans. Fire too. I really like Combusken.”

“You know what’s weird about Fire types?”

“Hm?”

“Almost all of them learn Solar Beam by the time they’re fully evolved. Except Flareon, Incineroar, Salazzle, and Cinderace. Maybe other ones too, I think. It’s like...Surf, but for Fire types.”

The clinic wasn’t too far from the station, maybe a ten minute walk. Martin did his usual fussing over directions, making sure they were going to the right place exactly. When they arrived at the building, Martin double checked the address when they arrived, nodding to himself and slipping the paper into his back pocket. “Yeah, this is it.”

“This building?”

“Yeah, third floor.”

“Nice,” said Tim, wrapping an arm around Martin’s waist and pulling him towards him, “then in we go, Marto. Our destiny awaits.”

“I really hope it doesn’t,” sighed Martin, twisting out of Tim’ arm, “come on. We’ll be late.”

“Ooh, so punctual.” Tim held the door open for Martin, following him in and up the stairs. It was a matter of seconds before Tim started talking again.

“I have a question.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Do we need to be looking at each other during this?”

“I--Christ, Tim, I don’t know, why? Why would we?”

“Because it’s for two people. Are we supposed to just have a nice little chat while this happens? What constitutes good arse blasting conversation?”

“I...don’t know? And probably not? Seems like the sort of thing it’d be hard to talk over.”

“Well, it’s for couples, right? Sounds like they’re set up so you can make direct eye contact with someone while this happens.”

“Tim, I’m not going to be looking at you in the eyes the whole time, that’s--that’s weird..”

“Ugh. Grump. Fine. But I will be looking at you the whole time. Just staring into your face directly while it happens.”

“I think if it’s for couples...well, just like. Maybe there’s other places you’d be looking, yeah?”

“ _Martin_ ,” gasped Tim, everything about his expression a fabulous imitation of appalled, “how crude of you!”

“I was talking about mouths,” snorted Martin, “like, y’know, where the kissing happens. I’m not responsible for where _your_ mind went.”

“Would the sound of _that_ going on make the kissing better or worse, do you think?”

“I don’t know, because I’m not even sure of the _mechanics_ of kissing with it going on in the background. Like, moving. But I think it’d mostly be kissing with water pump noises? Leave it up to you if that’s better or worse for kissing.”

“Well, I know it’s better for you.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, seems like a lo-fi thing.”

“...Well, yeah. Um…” Martin pulled the paper out again, and Tim sighed and gestured towards the sign, proudly proclaiming it was the clinic they were looking for. 

“Oh.”

“Yep. Let’s go in, I want to see how they decorate. See how they give aesthetic to something like this.”

“Tim!”

“Martin, you may not know this about someone as wild and untamed as myself, but I have an incredibly vested interest in how clinics are decorated. You don’t think it’s funny seeing how different the dentist’s office is?”

“Not...really?”

“Oh. Well, I’m not weird. Let’s go in.”

* * *

The procedure had been...well, nice, almost. Martin wasn’t sure what to expect going into it, but he left the clinic feeling physically good, and that was something to be said. His life had certainly not changed in the slightest, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever go again. It felt a little odd, to be sure, but about what they expected. Tim, fortunately, had refrained from making any kind of eye contact and only made a few comments about how it felt (“Martin, it feels like I just sat on a hose”). He’d asked Martin a few times how he was feeling, which felt nice. He wasn’t good with new things, even if they were things he was excited to attempt. It could get overwhelming taking part of them, enough that enjoying them could become difficult if the situation was overwhelming enough. The environment wasn’t one Martin found the atmosphere of even remotely stressful. Likely because _nobody_ in their right mind would want to feel overwhelmed while having themselves flushed out. He appreciated Tim’s asking, regardless.

Once they’d left, it was already beginning to get dark. Tim looked at Martin, tilting his head slightly. Martin looked back at him quizzically.

“Yeah?”

“Well? How was it? Are we a changed man?”

“The same man, actually.” Martin smiled. “It was fine, felt a little strange. I feel...uh, good? But I don’t know if I’d do this again, but I’m glad I tried, I guess. You?”

“Like all of the bad kebab is totally out of my body. And like there was like, a stone of it in there somehow. I’m definitely a changed man with a new outlook on life. Though I also don’t know if I’ll do it again. Sash said it felt to her like she was struggling to keep herself from squirming the whole time. Didn’t quite feel like that, but I think I get it now.”

“Right. So, um,” Martin swallowed and looked at his phone, “it’s, uh--I don’t know if you were going to head home from here, or--? If you want, we can head back to my flat too, if, if you want? I know it’s not exactly halfway there. God, sorry for making you come all the way there this morning. Um. Stupid.”

“Not stupid,” said Tim, giving Martin a little smile, “yeah, sure, I’ll go back with you. I didn’t have much in the way of plans for this evening.”

Martin gave a small smile back. “Oh! Um. Cool.”

* * *

Tim hadn’t been trying to stay over. 

He didn’t mind it either, though.

They’d gotten back to Martin’s flat, and Martin had jumped straight to offering to make them tea, and asked Tim if he wanted to help finish what was left of a microwavable pizza. Truthfully Tim had planned on leaving as soon as Martin stepped in his doorway, but he’d grown rather comfortable with Martin’s company. He was exhausted, having gotten up so early to run and having done a lot of traveling today. But it didn’t feel exhausting, he’d noticed, accepting Martin’s invitation to come in and settling on the sofa again as Martin made them tea. He knew Martin didn’t really have people over, if he even had people to have over. He’d thought about this while Martin was busying himself with the kettle in the kitchen. It wasn’t pity, Tim’s reason for staying. If anything, he just wanted Martin to know he enjoyed his company, to stop being so surprised when Tim made it clear.

So Tim made himself comfortable on Martin’s sofa and kept himself busy with playing Tetris while Martin finished the tea. He was quiet in there, not making very much noise. After the ride home, Tim was too tired to break the silence. He liked listening to Martin talk, about spiders or poetry or video games, or even nothing in particular. It was nice to see him excited. But Martin was tired, Tim could tell, and the silence was just as nice, because it was shared. A conversation with no words, just presences. 

Martin was writing in an old notebook on his lap, something that looked like verses of a poem. They were sharing a throw on the sofa, tea mugs and plates empty and cold. Tim felt his eyes drooping, and it wasn’t even that late. He could get up, say he was exhausted and needed to go home. But no, no, not when he felt so damn cozy, knowing full well how cold and dark it was outside by now. He adjusted the throw and leaned back into the cushions, grunting a little as he made himself more comfortable. He felt Martin gently nudge him.

“Tim?”

“Hmm?”

“You alright?”

“Just tired.”

“Ah. Are you...are you okay to go home?”

“Mmm.”

“What?”

Tim leaned into the cushion. “Guess I have to be. Not yet though, if that's okay.”

“I mean...you, um. You can stay here if you need to.”

“You mean…” Tim looked up blearily, “you’re alright with that?”

“I mean, yeah, sure? If you’d rather not have to go home. It is cold out and you don’t exactly look like you’re ready to pop off the sofa and head home.”

“I’m not. I’m awfully comfortable. That’s your fault.”

“You’re welcome. My only thing is, um...well, I pace a lot, and I ah, I talk to myself, so if I’m doing that in the bedroom it’s like, like, I’m fine, I do it all the time. Nothing’s wrong, I’m not upset, or anything.”

Tim nodded sleepily. “Right. So normal Martin stuff. Anything else?”

“I...think we’re the same size? If you wanted something more comfortable to sleep in.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks. Maybe. I’m fine falling asleep right here and now though.”

Martin gave Tim a little grin. “Go on, then.”

Tim hummed his approval before sinking into the sofa and wrapping the throw around himself.

"Martin?"

"Hmm?"

Tim grinned into the cushion. "Not a bad first date with you, if I'm being honest."

Martin gave a small laugh. "Thanks. I had a nice time too."

He dozed off then, and then again, and wasn’t sure how much he’d been doing it. He did know that at once point, he felt something pressed against him. He did his best to turn around given his position, and saw Martin was asleep next to him, curled up against Tim’s back. He looked comfortable, his face buried in Tim's back and his arms pulled up against his own chest. 

Martin had never been a fan of much physical contact. Tim was the opposite, and it took a lot of trial and error to understand what Martin was comfortable with, because Tim did a lot of his communication through physical contact. And because Martin wasn’t totally sure what he was comfortable with or not, and it’d really have to happen before Martin could say definitely if he liked it or not. But with contact like this, Martin had to initiate it. He was never much of a hugger, even if he gave nice ones. Contact like this made Tim's heart swell with warmth, because Martin initiated it, because Martin trusted him enough to do it at all. 

Tim turned around as much as he could so Martin could slide forwards into Tim, pressing his head into Tim’s shoulder. There was barely room for the two of them on the sofa, but Tim managed to stretch out enough so his legs weren’t being crushed. Tim sighed and relaxed into place, moving the throw so it better covered both of them.

It felt nice.

Tim felt himself dozing off again, and, too tired to try debating how nice it all felt with himself, fell back asleep with a smile on his face. 

* * *

The expenses were stacked neatly on Elias’ desk. He’d been looking forward to going through them. Elias loved going through them. Unnecessarily, perhaps, but he was awfully fond of organizing. Not to mention, Rosie would be incredibly suspicious if he were able to go through all the expenses in a matter of five minutes. 

The first receipt on the stack...according to the paper it was stapled to, it’d been for Tim and Martin. Elias needed to have a word with Tim about his expenses. Some were...wholly unneeded. 

The receipt didn’t seem to be for something that was related to the institute in any way. Some sort of couple’s procedure with a discount coupon added. Attached was a note from Tim, explaining why it was being listed as an institute expense; apparently, due to Tim and Martin’s reasons for having missed work a week prior. Elias was confused, but not above indulging himself in a discovery. He looked over the paper and the receipt, finding his answer at the very top declaring where Martin and Tim had been on Saturday. 

Some sort of center for colonic health for irrigation. 

Elias looked at the “thanks, boss!” Tim had scribbled down as the postscriptum. 

He needed a word with Tim about his expenses indeed. 


End file.
